Thousand Paper Cranes
by Rainnboots
Summary: In Japan, it is commonly said that folding 1,000 paper cranes will grant the folder one wish. Carlos sets out to test this theory.


**Author's Note:** Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! In honor of the occassion, I've decided to put up a oneshot. It's set in the same universe as my multi-chapter story, _Finding My Religion_, but you needn't have read it to understand what's going on. The only thing you need to know is Carlos and Logan are in love. I hope you all enjoy it, and please review!

**Disclaimer:** Any recognizable names and/or places are the property of their respective owners.

**Warnings:** Guy/guy relationship.

* * *

Carlos peeked his head out of the bedroom door, eyes darting back and forth across the hallway, then peering into the living room.

"Kendall?" he called, seeing the blonde's head resting on the top of the couch.

"Yes?"

"Is Logan back?"

"No."

"Okay."

Carlos shut the door, moving back to his bed, where his supplies lay. After two minutes of tinkering, he scampered back to the door and poked his head out.

"Kendall?"

Kendall sighed. "Yes?"

"Is Logan back?"

"No, Carlos. I told you I would tell you when he gets back."

"Okay, just don't forget."

"Carlos," said Kendall. He used his feet to push him backwards on the couch, his eyes just meeting Carlos's disembodied head floating in the doorway, "does this have anything to do with the 1500 sheets of paper you made me buy today?"

"Leave me alone."

The door slammed, and Carlos's head was gone. Kendall shook his head, slumping back onto his original position on the couch.

Another few minutes passed before Carlos's head appeared again.

"Kendall, do we have fishing wire?"

"None of us fish, Carlos."

"Oh, right."

"Mom has sewing thread, though; does that help?" Kendall offered.

"Really? Do you know where it is?"

"I think she keeps a couple spools in the junk drawer in the kitchen," said Kendall.

"Do we have a staple gun?"

Kendall furrowed his eyebrows. "Um, no, I don't think so. Why?"

"No reason," Carlos said quickly. "What about masking tape?"

"I think it's in the junk drawer, too," said Kendall.

"Okay."

Carlos's shoulders and torso appeared, quickly followed by his lower body, as he slipped out the door, closing it quickly behind him. He nodded at Kendall as he passed, scouring through the over-stuffed kitchen drawer for a moment before pulling out a spool of light-colored thread, a thick roll of tape, and a pair of scissors. He nodded at Kendall once again as he rounded the counter, stopping to contemplate the step stool leaning against the wall. He tilted his head in thought, then grabbed it and tucked it under his arm. Kendall pushed himself backwards on the couch again, so far this time that his shoulders were hanging off the back. Carlos pulled open the bedroom door a crack, just far enough to slip through, then shut the door behind him. Kendall sighed, letting his feet slip back onto the floor.

* * *

Carlos braced himself against the wall, straining his fingers to reach the corner portion of the ceiling. He grunted once, jumping, and his finger met the ceiling with a painfully hard bump. He stumbled from the step stool, falling back against his bed, and pulled his hand up to chest.

"Holy _freakin' _cow!" Carlos gasped, his jammed finger throbbing in pain. He sucked in a breath and pressed his clenched fist to his eyes, his eyes screwing up in pain.

"Carlos!" Kendall called.

Carlos rubbed his palm hard against his forehead. "Yeah?"

"He's back!"

Carlos rolled himself off the bed with a start, barely making it to the door before as it began to open, and threw his weight against it, pressing down on the lock.

"Sorry you can't come in!" Carlos called. He grit his teeth in pain, his now-swollen finger having hit the door. His balled his injured hand into a loose fist, pressing it against his thigh.

"What? Carlos, what're you doing?" Logan twisted the knob, knocking in the door. "Unlock the door, please."

"Nope, sorry, can't," said Carlos.

"Why?" asked Logan.

"_I..._ just can't," said Carlos, stretching out the first word as he searched for an excuse.

"Carlos, I want to brush my teeth."

"Use the bathroom in the kitchen," said Carlos.

"But my toothbrush is in _there_," said Logan.

"Well, I — you just — Kendall!" Carlos called.

"Yeah?" said Kendall.

"Do something!" said Carlos.

"What?" Kendall asked.

"_Anything_!" Carlos called back through the door. The pain from his finger was quickly working it's way up his wrist to his arm. He raised his hand to his forehead, letting out a low, shuddering breath, and leaned back against the door.

"Carlos, you're acting ridiculous and _really_ weird; please let me in," said Logan.

"I'm almost done, just give me like..." Carlos surveyed the room, estimating how much more he had to get done, "twelve and a half minutes."

Outside the door, Carlos heard Logan sighed. "Fine," he said. "I'm getting a smoothie. Do you want one?"

"Nope, I'm good," said Carlos. After a few moments, he heard the front door close. Carlos poked his head out the door.

"Thanks for nothing, Kendall," said Carlos. Kendall raised his hands to his side, a shocked look on his face.

"Dude, what do you want me to do? I _told_ you he was coming!" said Kendall.

"You barely gave me a heads-up! What happened to our secret call sign?"

"What, that stupid weasel thing?" said Kendall, a hint of disgust in his voice. He let his hands fall to his sides. "I'm not gonna say that."

"It was an _otter_," said Carlos, rolling his eyes. "And it wasn't stupid, it was clever."

"Whatevs, Carlitos," said Kendall, waving a dismissive hand at him. He pulled a beach towel off a clean laundry stack on the couch. "I'm going to the pool, you can find yourself a new guard. K-Dog _out_."

The front door closed again, and the apartment fell silent. Carlos pressed his palm to his forehead again, now feeling light-headed with pain, and cradled his hand to his chest. He groaned at the sight of the paper on his bed; how would he finish with an injured hand?

He shook his head once, clearing it of the painful fog he was in, and set off back to work.

* * *

Logan pushed through the front door, tossing his empty smoothie cup into the recycling, and setting his jacket on the overflowing coat rack. He flipped on a few lamps in the living room, turned on the lamp in the stove hood, and moved towards his bedroom door. He rapped his knuckles against the dark wood.

"Carlos?" said Logan. "Can I come in now?"

"Just a second!" Carlos called. There was the quiet, frantic sound of movement from behind the door; rustling paper, a drawer shutting, and a yelp.

"You okay in there?" Logan asked.

"Yep, yep, fine," said Carlos. He took in a sharp breath through his teeth, his finger throbbing from where he'd hit it on the edge of the nightstand — again. He took one last glance around the room, using his foot to shove a spare bit of plastic under his bed. "Okay, come in!"

The door opened tentively, just inching open at first, and Logan peered inside.

"Konnichiha!" Carlos smiled. Logan's eyes were immediately drawn above him, his hand frozen on the door knob. Above him flew hundreds of multi-colored paper cranes, hanging at different lengths from the ceiling.

"Oh, my _God_," said Logan.

"Surprise!" said Carlos.

"I don't... what?" Logan looked to Carlos, his eyes wide with confusion and astonishment.

"You know how you've been getting all these new books recently, the ones about Japan?" said Carlos, moving towards the dresser and pulling off a particularly large book. "I was looking through them the other day, and I saw this part in it about like old myths and stuff — hold on, I marked the page, it's in here somewhere..."

Carlos brought the book close to his face, flipping through the pages with a determined look on his face. "A-ha, here it is! So anyways I was reading it, and this one part was talking about how there's this legend that says if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you're granted one wish."

Carlos was standing beside Logan now, holding the book out for both of them to see.

"Like, any wish in the _world;_ you could be healed of a fatal illness or injury or whatever you wanted," Carlos explained.

"What, you're saying you folded these?" said Logan, reaching up and brushing his fingers against a crane hanging from a particularly long string. "_All_ of these?"

"Mm-hmm," Carlos nodded. "Do you like it?"

"This is... incredible," said Logan, craning his neck to get a glimpse of every crane. "Carlos, this must've taken you forever."

"Not really," Carlos shrugged. "I like origami."

Logan snorted. "No kidding."

Carlos shifted the book from his right hand to his left, hissing as the weight reached his middle finger. The book hit the ground with a loud snap.

"You okay?" asked Logan.

"It's nothing," said Carlos, shaking his head. "I bumped my finger earlier and it hurts a little bit, no big deal."

"How? Let me see," said Logan, grabbing for Carlos's hand. Carlos pulled it away.

"It's fine, Logie, don't worry about it," said Carlos.

"If it's still bothering you that much you could've really hurt yourself. Now let me see." Logan held his hand out expectantly. Carlos obliged, rolling his eyes.

"It's really swollen," said Logan, gingerly pressing against the sides of Carlos's injured finger. Carlos curled his free hand into a fist, nails digging into his palms, surpressing a groan. "What happened?"

"I jammed it on the ceiling."

Logan looked up, an eyebrow raised. "The ceiling?"

"I was hanging up the cranes, and the step stool wasn't tall enough; I had to jump," Carlos shrugged. Logan shook his head.

"You look pale, too," said Logan, reaching a hand out to touch Carlos's forehead. A cool sweat met his fingers. "You should sit, Carlos."

"I'm _fine_," Carlos insisted. Logan ignored him, pushing Carlos towards his bed. The back of Carlos's knees hit the mattress and he sat, Logan plopping down besisde him.

"Can you move it?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, it doesn't feel broken, I just jammed it _really_ _hard,_" said Carlos.

"I'm gonna pull on it to pop it," informed Logan, "and it's gonna hurt a little bit."

"Wait, what?" Carlos's head whipped up as Logan pulled on the tip of his finger. He yelped once, a sharp pain hitting his middle knuckle. "Jeez, Logan!"

"Sorry," Logan apologized. "Does it feel better?"

Carlos gently rubbed his finger, massaging the bone. "A little."

"Wait here for a minute," said Logan, rising from the bed.

"What now?"

"I'll be right back," said Logan, waving his hand as he entered the bathroom. Carlos heard him rummaging around for a few moments before reappearing, first aid kit in hand.

"What're you gonna do?" Carlos asked, pulling his hand back protectively to his body.

"I'm just going to wrap your fingers together," said Logan. "This won't hurt."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

Logan pulled apart a cotton ball, sandwiching it between Carlos's middle and ring finger, then wrapped a bit of medical tape just below the knuckle and right above the nail.

"This'll help keep your finger in place so it won't hurt as much," said Logan, turning Carlos's hand over to secure the tape.

"Thank you, Dr. Mitchell," said Carlos, looking over his bandage. Logan smiled to himself, packing things back into the small white box and securing the lid. He disappeared into the bathroom again.

"I'll get you some pills to help with the pain and swelling, too," said Logan, moving towards the door.

"No, we can get that later," said Carlos, rising from the bed. "Lay down," Carlos gestured towards his bed. "I want to show you something."

"Show me what?" asked Logan.

"You'll see."

Logan settled himself onto Carlos's bed as Carlos left the room, running across the apartment.

"Logan, where's the thermostat?" Carlos called.

"By the front door," said Logan. "Why?"

Carlos ignored his question, spending a few more moments in the front room before heading back to their bedroom. He flopped onto the bed beside Logan, their elbows knocking together.

"What am I looking at?" asked Logan.

"Just a second," said Carlos.

"Until what?"

"_Shh_," said Carlos. "You'll know it when it happens."

Logan sighed, crossing his hands over his stomach and waiting in silence. Behind them, in the wall, a faint knocking noise signaled the A/C starting. The vent in the ceiling began blowing out air and all at once, the cranes began to sway, creating a spectacular rippling effect.

"Look," Carlos whispered, "they're flying."

"Amazing," Logan muttered, shaking his head. After a few moments he tore his eyes away from the cranes, looking over at Carlos. "Why'd you do all this?"

"You're always doing all this nice stuff for me and everybody else," Carlos shrugged, "I just felt like you deserved something in return."

Logan reached a hand into the space between them, taking Carlos's uninjured hand and bringing it up to his stomach, holding it in both of his. Carlos laughed, reaching over to pat Logan's hands.

"You see all the blue ones?" asked Carlos, pointing to a particularly large crane hanging above their knees.

"That's my favorite color," said Logan, nodding.

"I wrote secrets in those," Carlos confessed.

"Secrets?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What secrets?"

"Well they wouldn't be secrets if I told you, now would they?"

"Touché."

Carlos chuckled. "They're about you," he said after a pause.

"About me?"

"Mm-hmm." Carlos squeezed Logan's hands. "They're all the reasons why I love you."

Logan moved his head, straining to count how many blue cranes there were. He couldn't; he simply lost count.

"There's so many," Logan said, letting out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"I have so many reasons," Carlos stated simply.

"What do they say?" Logan asked. "Can I read them?"

"You have to make a wish first," said Carlos.

Logan shook his head. "I don't need a wish."

"No?"

"No," Logan repeated, reaching over to kiss Carlos on the cheek, "I already have you."

* * *

Reviews? Anyone? Anyone? ...Bueller?


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